while you were sleeping
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: "It's maybe twenty minutes into Forbidden Planet that her head drops to his shoulder, cheek pressed against the fine material of his dress shirt." Oneshot, post 3x19, Law and Murder.


**Fill for a prompt on the castlefanfics tumblr: 'Beckett falls asleep on Castle's shoulder'. Post 3x19, Law and Murder.**

**(It's 2am and I have class in six and a half hours. Cry for me).**

It's maybe twenty minutes into _Forbidden Planet _that her head drops to his shoulder, cheek pressed against the fine material of his dress shirt. Hesitantly, he twists his neck - tries to be subtle about it, because he… he likes this, really likes this; the soft silk of her hair the gentlest touch against the uncovered skin above his collar, the proximity encompassing him the delicious, intoxicating scent of her, leaving him dizzy. But this is unlike Kate Beckett to say the very least. He doesn't want to shatter this bubble just yet and if she _realises _what she's doing, he that's exactly what will happen.

It's hard to get a view of her face from this angle, but he catches her profile at least, sees the crease buried deep between her eyebrows as she blinks slowly, lids remaining shut for too long before lifting blearily open, eyes unfocused as they linger on the screen.

He'd known she was tired - she'd been yawning in the car on he way here (he'd offered to drive - in the name of safety, of course. The look she shot him had him shrinking as far into his seat as he could, loose spring be damned) and yet he'd not actually expected his tease of '_you better not fall asleep on me, Kate' _to manifest in reality.

And yet, when she closes her eyes once more - and they stay shut this time - it has.

Gaze firmly focused on her and not the movie now - he could quote it in his sleep, anyway - he notices her grip slackening on the bucket of popcorn, saves it just in time. The move has him leaning slightly further into her space and he freezes as she stirs at the movement, waits for her to wake up and glare at him, sit stiffly away from him for the remainder of the film.

Instead, her hand comes up, brushes his cheek, sends his blood pumping in a frenzy that surely can't be good for his health. Drops, only for her fingers to curl under his collar, knuckles skimming over the spot where his heart thrums with the celerity of a hummingbird's wings. Her nose nudges at his jaw and comes to rest in the cavity of his clavicle, snuffling breaths hot puffs against his skin where she's inadvertently pushed aside his shirt.

She hums softly in her sleep, lips twisting into shapes he can't discern, soft flesh brushing his skin with almost-kisses. When he hears what she's mumbling, his heart turns tumbling somersaults beneath his ribcage. Because she's really, actually, genuinely quoting the film in her sleep.

And if someone had told him not an hour ago that she could, would do that? He'd have thought it unbearably hot. But right now she's tender, soft, innocent as she slumbers against his shoulder and he can't think of her as anything but adorable.

* * *

><p>The credits have rolled, the screen turned off and the lights on - and yet she dreams on. It's odd; he'd always imagined her for a light sleeper and yet the sudden brightness has no effect. Nor had the bustle of the rest of the audience leaving, or the action of the movie itself.<p>

He's going to have to wake her, as much as he's loathe to.

Tentatively, he skates his finger tips against her cheekbone. His breath catches as her face turns into his palm, nuzzling against it.

He tries to speak, but he can't seem to find his voice. Clearing his throat, he pulls his hand away from her, swallows hard at the way she follows the movement with a whine at the back of her throat. He settles it on her shoulder, shakes her gently.

"Kate, you need to wake up," he tells her (because in this moment, there's no trace of hard-nosed detective about her, just the gorgeous vulnerability that lies with the woman behind the badge). "Come on, Kate."

She blinks back to consciousness hazily, dark, fragile eyelashes fluttering in long, slow sweeps against her cheeks.

Castle almost laughs when she jerks up, a wild look in her eyes as it hits her just who her pillow had been. He rolls his shoulder, relieving the ache that settled into the joint not long after she'd drifted off.

"I- I - you… How long was I asleep for?" Her voice is a tiny bit slurred, still weighed down by the vestiges of sleep.

"The running times, what? An hour and forty? So like. That, minus twenty."

"Oh my God, you should have woken me! Why didn't you just wake me up, Castle?"

"Was having too much fun cuddling with you, Detective," he winks, disguising the truth behind the thin veil of a tease.

"I do _not _cuddle. We were not cuddling." She stands, props one hip against the seat in front and lays her hand on the other, glaring down at him at the suggestion that she's a snuggler.

"The photographic evidence doesn't lie, Detective."

"What?" Her eyes bulge, and he can't help but chuckle this time, tapping out his password and pulling up the photo he'd taken of the two of them, her resting against his chest asleep while he sticks his tongue out at the camera. He'd tried to be discreet - failed, slightly, when the front flash went off… but this photo? Worth all the dirty looks from fellow audience members in the world.

Kate goes to take the phone from him, but he stops her and she leans in to look closer. She half reaches out, teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she withdraws.

"What can I do to get that picture deleted?" She bargains, arms folding over her chest.

He doesn't let his smile falter, even as his chest burns painfully. "How about that burger I was hankering after earlier?"

"You're on, partner."

* * *

><p>"Hand it over, Castle," she demands, fingers shimmying in a give-it-to-me gesture. He passes her his phone reluctantly, just as the waitress swoops over to clear their plates. "You got your burger."<p>

She taps out his password with only a second's thought - he thinks he should probably switch it out. Alexis' birthday is clearly too obvious.

He can't quite put a name to the feeling that sparks in his gut at the realisation he knows his daughter's birthday off the top of her head - just something very... warm? A glow.

Kate's still tapping at his phone. "You know, I could have just deleted it myself, Detective. You after a chance to look for Nikki spoilers?"

Gaze averted, the delicate blush that rises on her neck lifting his lips into a smirk at the thought he'd been correct in his teasing, she returns his cell, ignoring his quip. "I had fun tonight," she tells him, already shrugging on her coat as she prepares to leave, tossing down a few bills to pay for their food.

"Mm, it did look like an excellent nap."

She gives him an eye-roll in lieu of a goodnight.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, he plugs his phone into his laptop, opens up the program he's got for recovering lost files (he's accidentally deleted portions of writing more times than he cares to admit) because <em>really <em>as if he'd let that photo be deleted into the digital void and-

-oh.

Wow.

He stops breathing for a second, his chest tight.

The file details, right there in front of him:

_File created: 7.36pm, 3/28/2011_

_File deleted: 9.12pm, 3/28/2011_

_File activity: Shared with one [Kate Beckett], 9.11pm, 3/28/2011_

* * *

><p><strong>tumblr: castleholic<strong>

**twitter: _sfv**


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